


(In)Destructible

by ParadiseAvenger



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Anxiety Attacks, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 11:56:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5927485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadiseAvenger/pseuds/ParadiseAvenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Here’s a taste, little victim—” Le Sadique brought the hammer down on Chat Noir’s outstretched arm.</p><p>For an instant, Marinette prayed that their indestructible suits would protect him. Chat Noir’s body was still human beneath his suit. The sound of the hammer breaking the bones in his arm surged through Marinette’s head.</p><p>Chat Noir screamed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Little Victim

Sticking with the canon of Ladybug being able to bring back the dead and their suits being indestructible… I hope everyone who corrected me over on Perfectly (Imperfect) is happy. This is what happens when the hurt part of my hurt/comfort can’t be a little cut.

X X X

_“Le Sadique, my name is Hawk Moth. The police who put you behind those bars don’t understand, but I do. I can help you escape and let you continue your… enjoyment. All you have to do is bring me Ladybug’s and Chat Noir’s Miraculouses. Do we have a deal?”_

_“When I’ve finished, can I do what I like with their lives?”_

_“Whatever you please.”_

_“Agreed.”_

…

Landing lightly on the roof beside Ladybug, Chat Noir stretched his arms over his head languidly. The cool breeze ruffled his pale hair and his tail curled absently. “Well,” he remarked. “This has been a pawsitively uneventful patrol.”

Marinette nodded, arching her back comfortably. “I can appreciate that though,” she told him. “Hawk Moth has been quiet all week. I bet he’s planning something big.”

“Whatever it is, we can handle it,” Chat Noir said. He reached his arm to the side, captured Ladybug, and pulled her to him. “Would you care for a little midnight snack? I know a great café with the best chocolate soufflés. I’m not kitten around.”

Marinette slipped out from under his arm and fixed him in place with a stern stare. “I am going to take advantage of this early night,” she said. “You should save your energy for whatever Hawk Moth has in store for us. Stop wasting it on flirting and puns.” 

Chat Noir’s green eyes sparkled in the moonlight as he grinned mirthfully at her. 

Marinette forced herself to ignore him. She adored her partner—she really did—but sometimes he was just too much. Although, on a night like tonight, she couldn’t particularly blame him. Rescuing Paris from Hawk Moth repeatedly was stressful and they had to take advantage of any downtime they could muster. 

Marinette let out a sigh and patted Chat Noir on the shoulder. “See you for tomorrow night’s patrol,” she said.

“Unless Hawk Moth springs something on us before then,” he added. 

Marinette nodded and sent up a little prayer that Hawk Moth would continue this quiet week. She had so much homework to do that it wasn’t even funny and she could really use the time to catch up on her grades. How long was Alya going to let Marinette copy her homework before she got suspicious?

Marinette lifted a gloved hand to wave goodbye to Chat Noir. “Goodnight—”

A flash of silver exploded past Ladybug’s wrist. It glanced off her indestructible suit, but a spike of pain bolted through Marinette’s skin underneath. Whatever that was, it was supernaturally sharp and there was only one thing—one person—that could create anything like that.

“We spoke too soon,” Chat Noir said with a groan.

Marinette shook her hand at the wrist, ignoring the tingles of pain that reached her fingertips.

Together, they turned to face Hawk Moth’s newest akuma. Unlike the colorful costumes the akuma usually took on, this man wore plain jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt. He had unremarkable features—dark hair, dark eyes, clean-shaven, straight narrow nose. If not for the horrific downward curl of his thin mouth, he would have been someone easily passed on the street, but that expression… It was beyond frightening. It was cruel and hard and, above all, delighted.

If not for his weapon, Ladybug would have continued looking for the akuma’s location. However, the weapon in his hands shifted fluidly. One moment, it was a short knife. The next, it became a tall spear and then an axe and finally a curved scythe that glinted in the moonlight. Hawk Moth’s signature flared around the man’s face though the color looked a little deeper and darker than usual. Le Sadique’s cold mouth curved at the corners, smiling, and it looked as though his face would crack.

“Ladybug, Chat Noir,” Le Sadique said silkily. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Unfortunately, you won’t be sharing my sentiment.” 

“I don’t know,” Chat Noir called with his usual confidence. “You look like you might be a fun guy. You certainly have better fashion sense than the usual akuma victim.”

Le Sadique’s mouth stretched like razor wire. “Oh, no, Chat Noir, you see, I’m going to make sure you despair in every minute.” His dark eyes seemed to soak up all the moonlight as they traced over Ladybug like a cold caress. “And I am no one’s prey. You, in fact, are both about to be my eleventh and twelfth victims.”

A shiver ran down Marinette’s spine. She could tell Chat Noir felt the same because he removed his staff from the small of his back and extended it without making a quip.

“Let’s get this over with,” Chat Noir whispered to Ladybug. “He’s creeping me out.”

She nodded, unfurled her yoyo, and began to twirl it.

Tilting his ever-changing weapon, Le Sadique inclined his head as though greeting someone invisible. Hawk Moth’s signature flared around his face for just an instant, blood-red. He chuckled as though at a private joke, transformed his weapon into a whip, and lashed it at the two heroes. 

Chat Noir leaped nimbly out of the way, using his staff to vault forward like a blast out of the cannon. He planted both feet in the center of Le Sadique’s chest and slammed him down onto the roof. Chat Noir leaped away and landed beside Ladybug. “Where do you think the akuma is?”

“It has to be in his weapon,” Ladybug called.

Brushing off his chest, Le Sadique got to his feet again. “I haven’t had this much fun catching someone in a long time. Let’s make it last, shall we?”

Chat Noir’s tail bristled. 

Marinette didn’t like how any of this was going. Le Sadique didn’t look as imposing as some of the other akumas they had faced, but his presence was… very wrong. She wanted to end this as quickly as possible. She threw her yoyo into the night sky, focused on the flare of its magic like a shooting star as it changed. 

‘Please,’ she thought. ‘Nothing tricky or crazy. Just give me something to take this guy down.’

Hawk Moth’s signal flashed.

“I don’t think so. You are my victim,” Le Sadique said.

Ladybug saw his weapon transform from the corner of her eye. For an instant, she didn’t quite believe what she saw. Then, there was a flash of light and an explosion of sound. Marinette smelled hot lead and she heard Chat Noir shout in warning. When the bullet slammed into the middle of her chest, her vision went white. The pain was so searing that she couldn’t breathe. It was like being hit by a baseball bat, cracking into her chest and roaring through her ribcage. Her spine rattled as she crashed backwards and landed hard on the roof.

“Ladybug!” 

Marinette put her hands to her chest, fumbling across the bulletproof material. Beaded up like a tiny horrible pearl between her breasts was the bullet. It burned like a miniature star even through her gloves, even through her suit. She swiped it away. Desperately, she rolled onto her hands and knees. She couldn’t get in a deep enough breath to sustain her body. Her vision filled with spots, fractured and clouded at the edges. She cradled her chest with one arm, shuddering in agony.

Le Sadique’s footsteps crunched on the shingles.

Marinette’s skin crawled. He was going to reach her and she couldn’t even move. Already, she could imagine the icy scrape of his fingers combing through her hair. Would he lift her up like that? Would he close his fingers around her throat? Would he rip her lobes when he removed her earrings? All at once, Ladybug’s strength and confidence trickled away. Marinette felt like herself—plain, weak Marinette. She felt like she would break, like she really would become his victim.

“Ladybug!” 

Chat Noir crashed between them, his sturdy boots nearly breaking the shingles. He rammed his staff upwards into Le Sadique’s ribcage and extended it, forcing him backwards. Chat Noir glanced over his shoulder at Ladybug, his green eyes glittering like flames. 

“Are you alright?”

Le Sadique’s weapon changed again. One moment, it was the handgun that felt like it had fractured Marinette’s chest even though it hadn’t pierced her skin. The next, it became a massive cannon. That dark mouth yawned like a hungry beast. 

A scream bottled up in Marinette’s throat, desperate to warn her partner before it struck him, but she still couldn’t breathe.

Le Sadique squeezed the trigger. The cannon ball exploded out and unfolded like a hideous black flower. The net snared Chat Noir, hurling him backwards as the weighted balls locked and twisted around him. The sound of his body striking the roof and crashing into a chimney was worse than the sound of gunfire. Even with his staff, he had no hope to escape the net. He looked like a helpless insect caught in a spider’s web.

Marinette staggered to her feet, her will overriding her pain. She raised her hand and caught her Lucky Charm as it descended. Everything happened too fast, a blur of blood pouring from a wound or water breaking through a dam to demolish the city below. The red and black spotted scissors were the greatest thing Marinette had ever seen. She took a staggering step towards Chat Noir and he stretched out a hand for her. His green eyes were wild, darting from her to Le Sadique behind her.

“Ladybug!”

Marinette heard the second and third gunshots before the pain reached her. Two more blinding spots of anguish struck her back. One glanced along the curve of her ribcage, but the other found the middle of her spine. Her legs went numb, tingling all the way from her toes to her hips. She fell, landing hard on her hands. The scissors were sharp, but they couldn’t cut through her suit. Panting frantically for air, trying to see through blurred eyes, she crawled towards Chat Noir. 

Le Sadique stepped over her as though she were a mere insect in his path, a beetle not worth squashing. 

Hawk Moth’s signature flared and Marinette could imagine his voice snarling out, ‘Take her Miraculous.’

“I will,” Le Sadique answered. “Believe me, I will. However, I like to pit myself against my victims. People do such interesting things when they’re desperate.” His sharp mouth curved into a sick grin. 

“Ladybug,” Chat Noir pleaded. He stretched his hand for her.

She reached out, trying to get the scissors to him even if she could barely move.

Le Sadique’s weapon changed, morphing into a hammer with a broad metal head like something to be used to pound meat. It looked toothy, the shadows cutting across its surface. 

Marinette stretched. Chat Noir strained. The scissors were inches from his reach.

Grinning, Le Sadique said, “Here’s a taste, little victim—” 

He brought the hammer down on Chat Noir’s outstretched arm.

For an instant, Marinette prayed that their indestructible suits would protect him, as hers had protected her. However, the pain had still reached her like a bullet punching into Kevlar. Chat Noir’s body was still human beneath his suit. The sound of the hammer breaking the bones in his arm surged through Marinette’s head.

Chat Noir screamed. His voice shot through the Paris night, echoing off the buildings around them and coming back to fill Marinette’s mind like icy water swallowing a sinking ship. 

Marinette watched in horror as Chat Noir tried to pull his arm protectively to his chest. Le Sadique put his foot down on the shattered bones and ground with his heel. Chat Noir cried out, his voice raw and ragged. Marinette thought she could hear the bones crunching and grinding like pieces of broken porcelain. 

“I’ll wait,” Le Sadique told Ladybug without looking at her. His cold dark eyes remained riveted on Chat Noir as he pressed down on his crushed arm. “Try to save him, little victim. Try to save yourself. I’ll wait.”

Marinette clawed at Le Sadique’s ankle, but her fingers were as numb as the rest of her.

He shook her off, picked up Chat Noir by the tangled net, and walked away without looking back. The night swallowed him, swallowed Chat Noir, and Ladybug was alone in the darkness. Her transformation vanished, exhausted from stopping the bullets and also using her Lucky Charm. The scissors dissolved like her hope.

It felt like hours, but it must have been only one short minute before Marinette managed to sit up. Her chest roared with agony, but she reached for Tikki regardless. “We have to transform,” she told her kwami. “We have to help Chat Noir.”

Tikki looked as broken as Marinette felt. “The transformation will be too weak,” she whispered. “I need time.”

“A few minutes,” Marinette insisted. She staggered to her feet unsteadily. She pressed one hand to her throbbing chest and cradled Tikki in the other. “I need to figure out where the akuma took Chat Noir.”

“He seemed like he expected you to know,” Tikki whispered. “Did you recognize him?”

Marinette didn’t answer right away. She snapped open her purse, pulled out a plastic bag of cookies, picked out three, and put them in her palm beside Tikki. She studied the night blankly, drawing up an image of Le Sadique’s face. He looked so normal. There was nothing remarkable about his transformation besides that impossible weapon. 

Like a nightmare, his twisted mouth and dark eyes filled Marinette’s mind. 

A little gasp tore from her lips.

“Marinette?” Tikki asked as she ate. “Did you think of something?”

Marinette nodded shakily, horror gripping her stomach in a cold slimy vice. “Le Sadique was on the news last night,” she whispered. “He killed ten people before the police caught him.” Her breath caught. She could see Chat Noir reaching desperately for her, the ropes of the net pinning him like a butterfly in a glass case. She heard his bones break beneath Le Sadique’s hammer, heard his scream all over again. Marinette trembled as she whispered, “Oh god, Tikki, he tortured them. He tortured them all to death.”

Tikki’s eyes always appeared deep and dark and ageless. Most of the time, the thought of what Tikki had seen over the centuries didn’t bother Marinette, but right now, she wondered what things Tikki could have experienced. Tikki swallowed the remaining piece of cookie. 

“We need to hurry,” Tikki said. Though Marinette could feel the tiny kwami tremble with exertion in her palm, she didn’t argue. 

“Transform.”

In a flash of light, Tikki shaped her into Ladybug. The indestructible suit hugged Marinette’s every curve like a second skin. Usually, it made her feel powerful and untouchable, but she kept thinking of the hammer as it cracked Chat Noir’s arm. Ladybug might have been unbreakable, but Marinette was only a human beneath that façade. Le Sadique couldn’t shoot her, but he could break her bones, just like he had broken Chat Noir’s. Marinette took a deep breath, trying to smooth her ragged nerves to no avail.

“Le Sadique,” Marinette whispered to herself. “When the police found him, he was in a house on the outskirts of Paris near the River Seine. I bet that’s where he took Chat Noir.”

The thought of her partner calmed her slightly, allowing a surge of adrenaline to mask the ache in her chest and back. No matter what happened, she needed to rescue him. Those atrocities she had heard about on the news were enough to make seasoned police officers ill. She couldn’t let him suffer like Le Sadique’s victims had. With that thought in mind, she unfurled her yoyo and she flew through the night. 

Le Sadique’s house was just as quiet and unassuming as Le Sadique himself. It was a simple one story with a short paved driveway and manicured lawn. Curtains were closed over the windows for privacy, metal doors were set at an angle to the house’s foundation to lead into a basement, and the garage door had been recently painted. It didn’t stand out at all. The location was nice with the Seine River glittering as a dark ribbon far in the backyard, but there were no neighbors for miles. Private and austere, Marinette wouldn’t have suspected it was the home of a serial murderer if she hadn’t already known. 

Ladybug landed hard on the green lawn, panting for breath. She clutched her yoyo and approached cautiously. She was alone, without Chat Noir, and she needed to be careful. She held their lives in her hands—not only theirs, but the lives of their kwamis and probably the lives of the citizens of Paris should Hawk Moth and Le Sadique get what they wanted. She needed the element of surprise. She needed whatever advantage she could get.

Marinette steadied her breathing as she circled the house. Every window was covered, denying her a peek inside. She could go in through the front door or try to get in through the basement doors. Neither seemed like a good option and she weighed them against each other. The metal doors would be hard to break down if they were locked and she didn’t know what lay in wait for her in the house. Maybe she could—

Chat Noir’s scream shattered her thoughts. His voice was high and fractured with pain, more catlike than she had ever heard it.

Marinette’s skin crawled, the hair on the back of her neck rose, and her heart skipped several beats. She didn’t have time to waste being cautious anymore. Le Sadique was already torturing her partner. She plunged her fist through the small glass window on the front door. The glass scraped her suit, but couldn’t cut through it. She flipped the latch and let herself in. The inside of house was plain and casual, but impersonal. It looked as though no one had ever lived there, yet it had been cleaned and polished to a shine. The broken glass crunched beneath her feet. 

Chat Noir’s voice rose in anguish and then choked off abruptly. 

The silence was almost worse. 

Marinette crashed open every door in her path—bedroom, bathroom, closet, office in which the walls were papered with horrific articles and photographs, kitchen. Marinette found the final door to be locked from the outside. It was a prison. She clawed each deadbolt open, but one final lock from the inside remained to keep curious people out. She kicked it open, satisfied as the wood splintered beneath her assault. Narrow stairs led into the basement. Bright light beckoned.

“She’s come for you,” Le Sadique whispered loud enough for Ladybug to hear. “Aren’t you lucky?”

Marinette cast her yoyo above her head, whispering, “Lucky Charm.” When the red and black spotted pistol landed in her palms, she didn’t know whether to be grateful or horrified. She had never had to kill an akuma before, but she wouldn’t hesitate now. She thought of Chat Noir’s fractured arm, of his broken voice filtering up the stairs to her, and steeled herself.

Chat Noir whimpered.

Marinette swung down the narrow staircase and landed on the concrete slab. The basement was finished with smooth grey walls and bright lights. It would have been as quiet and unassuming as everything else in the house except for the coiled length of hose lying like a snake in the corner. A large drain dominated the center of the basement, rust-red despite how clean everything else was. The air reeked of bleach and something sickly-sweet. 

Marinette’s eyes fell on Le Sadique. He had removed his sweatshirt and his white t-shirt was splattered with gore. His dark eyes, his cruel mouth, his shifting weapon danced before her. Chat Noir was chained to the wall beside him like an animal for butchering. His arms were stretched over his head, feet barely touching the floor, blood smeared the wall around his face. His green eyes flickered over Ladybug, desperate and agonized.

Marinette leveled the gun at Le Sadique. Her heart quivered, but her hands were steady. “Get away from him.”

Le Sadique shaped his weapon, cycling through each one—a gun, a hammer, a cannon, a knife, a spear, and again. 

Marinette’s skin prickled.

“Everyday heroes and heroes in masks,” Le Sadique said absently. “You’re all the same.”

“I said, get away from him.”

“I heard you,” Le Sadique remarked. His weapon became a hammer and, without warning, in an instant too quick for Marinette to react, he smashed the hammer into Chat Noir’s elbow. It cracked like an egg, like a vase shattering, like the window breaking upstairs.

Chat Noir howled in pain, his voice splintered at the edges.

“No!” 

Marinette’s finger tightened on the trigger. She didn’t think about it. She only acted. She squeezed and fired. The bullet ripped into Le Sadique’s chest, followed by another and another. He leaned against the wall and slid down it slowly, leaving a smeared trail of blood. When the pistol clicked empty, Marinette let it fall.

Le Sadique watched, his eyes like black pits, even in death.

Marinette closed the space between herself and Chat Noir. She used her yoyo to cut through the chains around his wrists. He sagged against her, whimpering, and she lowered them both to the ground. Her hands fluttered helplessly.

“Oh god, Chat Noir.”

“My Lady,” he croaked. “You came.”

In all that they had been through, they had never been hurt like this. The suits protected them, they protected each other, and they had always been fine. Ladybug’s luck served her. Chat Noir’s agility kept him out of harm’s way. They had always been okay.

Now, there seemed no place on Chat Noir’s body that she could touch without hurting him. The exposed edges of his face had been slashed open, as though Le Sadique would carve the mask from his skin. Hints of white bone showed below his mask, just across his cheekbone, and blood tracked in thick rivulets down his face. His ring finger was twisted and broken, snarled at such an angle that there was no telling how many times it had been cracked. Le Sadique had left his Miraculous intact.

His arm, which Marinette had seen broken on the roof, was crooked beneath his tight leather suit. In fact, each of his limbs was tilted and shattered. Le Sadique had brought that hammer down on Chat Noir’s elbow and his arm lung limp at his side. His long legs twitched and convulsed, the unsupported muscles of his shattered thighs grasping for something. Each tiny movement and little breath pried a broken sound from Chat Noir’s lips.

“Y-your healing light,” he whimpered, “please. U-use it.”

Marinette scrabbled across the bare concrete. She grabbed Le Sadique’s weapon and cracked it, releasing the black monstrosity. She captured the akuma in her yoyo without flourish and released the purified white butterfly. She grabbed her spotted pistol and threw it into the air. The light washed over them, over the basement, over everything. The damage mended, the blood was washed away, and Chat Noir let his breath out in shaky relief. 

“Chat Noir,” Marinette gasped. She clutched his hand.

He winced, the memory of his finger being twisted and broken haunted him even though the damage had been healed.

Marinette’s throat went dry. “Chat,” she breathed.

Her earring beeped in warning.

“Go,” he said. “I’ll stay until the police arrive.”

In the corner, Le Sadique groaned. Ladybug’s magic could heal anything, could repair the world, could even bring the dead back to life. Never before had Marinette loved and hated that power so much. Chat Noir looked away from Le Sadique, his mouth pinched at the corners.

“No,” Marinette said firmly. “I am not leaving you here with him.”

“I’m fine—”

“I’m not going,” she repeated. “Not without you.” She jumped to her feet, marched over to Le Sadique, and heaved him up. He was heavy and large, but still unconscious. Ladybug’s strength aided Marinette as she pushed him against the wall and chained him where Chat Noir had been. “There,” she said. “Now, he can wait for the police all by himself.”

Chat Noir looked ill, staring at Le Sadique strung up against the wall.

“Chat,” Marinette said.

His head snapped around to meet her gaze. 

“Let’s go,” she insisted.

Chat Noir eased to his feet, testing his weight on his repaired legs. For a moment, he stood there in the midst of the basement’s bright lights. He looked down at his legs and then at his hands. Slowly, uncertain, he touched his broken arm and shattered elbow. His body had mended with Ladybug’s power. No trace of his injuries remained. None, that was, except the memories.

“Come on,” Ladybug said again, even as her earring beeped. 

Chat Noir followed her up the stairs, through the house of a serial murderer, and out into the cool night. He breathed deeply.

Marinette wanted to embrace him, wanted to hold him until she knew he was alright, but her earring kept beeping. Tikki was exhausted. She needed to hurry and get back to Paris before the transformation wore off or who knew how long it would take her to get home. After a night like tonight, she didn’t want to walk home alone in the dark.

“Chat,” Ladybug said to her partner.

He looked at her, green eyes gleaming.

All at once, she didn’t know what to say. She knew he was all right physically, but what had being tortured by Le Sadique done to him mentally? She couldn’t just go home and pretend this had never happened. What Le Sadique had done to those people, what he had done to Chat Noir—

“Promise you’ll meet me tomorrow night,” she said finally, “at seven o’clock on the Eiffel Tower.”

Chat Noir looked puzzled. His mask shifted over his features, reminding her of the horrific slashes that had framed his bared skin. “Alright,” he agreed.

Her earring beeped again and she didn’t have any more time. She unfurled her yoyo, swung it onto the nearby telephone pole, and vaulted away. The night whipped past her, pulling her bangs out of her face. Once she was out of Chat Noir’s sight and the lights of Paris glowed on the horizon, she stopped on the top of the pole. Slumping down, she let her legs hang over the edge and pressed her face into her hands. Her eyes burned and her throat closed. A ragged sob tore up her throat and she desperately swallowed it.

She took a few moments to pull herself together before hopping down from the pole just as her transformation wore off. She caught Tikki in her hands and cradled the kwami to her chest. Her torso ached where the bullets had slammed into her suit, memories of pain that reached all the way to her bones. Slowly, she walked through the brightly-lit streets of Paris. 

…

Chat Noir slipped in through Adrien’s bedroom window and released his transformation as soon as he had closed it. He caught the exhausted Plagg between his palms. The empty white ring caught his attention and the memory of Le Sadique breaking his finger repeatedly surged through him. He nearly dropped Plagg. He nearly tore off the ring and threw it.

As though reading his thoughts, Plagg curled around Adrien’s finger. His tiny claws and soft pads soothed the memory. “Are you alright?” he asked with surprising tenderness. “You can talk to me.”

Adrien shook his head. “I’m okay,” he whispered. “I think I just need a shower and some rest.”

Plagg nodded slowly, his bright green eyes focused on Adrien’s face. 

Adrien carried Plagg over to his desk and settled him down on the blue scarf that his father had given him for his birthday. He crept from his room, grateful to find his mansion dark and empty of servants. He took several slices of camembert from the fridge. For a moment, he stood in the bright light of the fridge, staring at the well-stocked contents and feeling the cool air on his skin. Before he went to patrol with Ladybug, he had been starving, but he couldn’t bear the thought of eating now. He closed the fridge, gave the cheese to Plagg, and closed himself in the bathroom. 

The bright light chased away the shadows. He started up the shower and peeled off his clothes slowly, dropping them in a pile on the floor. Now that he was alone, without Ladybug or Plagg watching him, with the shower running to drown out the harshness of his breathing and the steam fogging the mirror, he allowed himself to run his hands all over his body. 

He began at his face, tracing the skin at the edge of where his mask would have been. He could still feel the knife like a chip of ice dragging through his flesh, scraping his bones, digging just beneath the edge of his mask. He could still taste his own blood, could still feel it hot and thick as it ran down his cheeks. He touched the lines of his face, along his nose and over his lips. His skin was flawless and smooth, just as it had always been.

His fingers slid lower, running over his collarbone. It was straight and solid, nothing like the bone Le Sadique’s hammer had purposefully cracked into pieces on each side. He ran his hands over his chest, following the curve of his unbroken ribcage. He could breathe again without pain spiking through his body. His lung, which had felt deflated and empty, absorbed oxygen as it always had. Ladybug’s magic had mended his chest.

He cupped his palm over his shoulder, grateful to feel everything back where it belonged. The weight of his body in those chains had dislocated his joints. He ran his palm down his arm, rubbing his elbow. He could still feel the splintering agony of his joint being shattered. His arm had been crushed on the roof right in front of Ladybug, but that quick blow felt like nothing compared to the methodical way Le Sadique had broken each bone that he could reach.

He traced the angle of his hip and down his thighs. The strong bone in his leg had been cracked multiple times. Words could not express the agony from the break, especially when his torn muscles tried desperately to anchor themselves on the broken femur. His head spun with the memory and he nearly fell to his knees. He braced himself on the vanity, breathing raggedly, and tried to center himself. 

Less than twenty minutes ago, his body had been shattered seemingly beyond repair. Ladybug’s magic had healed him, but he could still feel Le Sadique breaking him apart. He could still see every twisted smile, hear every sick word, feel every blow and cut on his body. 

Shuddering, Adrien stepped into the shower and leaned against the cool marble tiles. The warm water poured down on his head and back. Slowly, the chill of the knife carving the edge of his face and the cold crack of the hammer against his bones faded. When he could breathe evenly, he straightened up.

He grasped his loofah and squeezed body wash onto it. Slowly, gently, he washed every inch of his skin. His eyes searched for scars that wouldn’t exist, for breaks that had healed, for the pains he vividly remembered. With a sigh, he put aside the loofah and tipped his head under the warm spray. The scent of the soap surrounded him, easing away the terrible bleach stench that clung to every fiber of his body. 

Pouring shampoo into his palm, he scrubbed his fingers through his hair. He thought of Chat Noir’s ears, perched delicately on the top of his head. Le Sadique had pinched and twisted them, leaving not a mark on the hard leather, but the pain reached straight into Adrien’s brain. He shuddered and pulled his hands away from his scalp. Rinsing off, he allowed himself to stand beneath the warm water until it ran cold. He stepped out of the shower and dried off slowly.

Exiting the bathroom in the waft of scented steam, he saw that Plagg was asleep on his desk. He hadn’t even finished the cheese Adrien had brought up for him. He must have been too exhausted. Tenderly, Adrien drew the tip of his finger across Plagg’s head. He knew his kwami had done everything he could to protect him, but the suit had one weakness—the human body beneath it. 

Plagg mumbled in his sleep, words that sounded eerily like an apology.

Adrien tucked some of the soft knitted powder-blue scarf more securely around Plagg. For himself, he took some clean soft pajamas out of his dresser and pulled them over his aching body. He collapsed on his bed and tugged his thick blankets over himself. Curling into the pillows, he closed his burning eyes.

X X X

I will post the second and final chapter of this on Sunday, after I’ve had some time to edit (unless my job explodes. I have to do some work on Saturday).

Questions, comments, concerns?


	2. Survivor

Fun fact (I think, I don’t speak French): Le Sadique means The Sadist.

X X X

An explosion of pain jerked Marinette from the spiral of her nightmares. She sat up sharply, gasping for breath. The sheets were tangled around her arms and legs, clinging like spider webs. Marinette pawed free of the covers and landed hard on the cold floor. Disoriented, Marinette pressed both hands to her chest where the pain started like a tiny meteor of flame. Her ears rang with the sound of gunshots and the smell of burning metal blocked out the scent of baked goods drifting up from below.

“Marinette? Marinette!” Tikki’s voice sounded like it was coming from another world, distant and tiny. 

Marinette felt like she was surfacing from a deep lake. She gasped for breath, pressing her fingertips to the valley between her breasts where the bullet had struck her sternum. Her tender skin had been healed by Ladybug’s magic. However, in her mind, it felt almost bruised. 

She could still feel the spotted revolver in her hands and feel the kick as she squeezed the trigger. She had shot a man. She had killed Le Sadique. Even though her magic had brought him back, she had killed someone. Pushing away the memory and the clinging cobwebs of the nightmare, she told herself that Le Sadique had been torturing her partner and she did what she had to. It was the truth.

She would do it again, even if Ladybug’s magic wouldn’t bring him back. She would shoot Le Sadique over and over if it meant saving her partner, her kitty, her Chat Noir. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow him to be hurt. She breathed out shakily and pushed her tangled hair out of her face. 

“Marinette?” Tikki repeated urgently. 

“I’m okay,” Marinette breathed out. “I’m fine.”

“What happened?” Tikki asked. “You were crying out in your sleep and then…” She gestured her tiny hands at Marinette, crumpled on the floor beside her bed in a knot of sheets and blankets.

Marinette sniffled and rubbed her hands over her face. “I’m okay,” she whispered. “I just had a… a nightmare.”

“About what happened?” Tikki asked gently.

Marinette nodded. She felt shaken apart at the seams by her nightmare, even though she couldn’t remember more than the feeling of searing pain and the sound of the gunshots. Her hands trembled, her skin prickled with goose bumps, and cold sweat coated the back of her neck. If she felt this way, she could only imagine how Chat Noir felt. Marinette pulled herself to her feet and heaped the blankets back onto her bed.

“I need to transform, Tikki,” Marinette whispered.

Tikki floated up to her shoulder and perched there, clutching loose strands of Marinette’s hair. She didn’t ask why and she didn’t complain. She merely nodded, her eyes dark and deep.

Ladybug’s transformation washed over Marinette. She climbed through the hatch on her roof, took a deep breath of cool night air on the balcony, and unfurled her yoyo. Paris blew past her, its lights dancing and flickering. Marinette usually hated how she couldn’t see the stars since Paris was so bright, but tonight she almost wished there was more light. Each shadow fell on her like a physical touch. She wasn’t sure where she was going until she saw the Eiffel Tower.

“Chat Noir,” she breathed out. 

If she felt this way, she could barely imagine what he was going through. The sight of his body in that basement, so broken and cracked to pieces, haunted the insides of her eyes. She swept closer to the tower and realized someone was seated on the highest balcony. Even with a blanket drawn around his shoulders, Marinette knew it could be no one else. She landed beside Chat Noir.

He looked over at her, his green eyes gleaming behind his mask. His skin was pale and perfect once again, without a hint of blood or bruises remaining.

“Are you alright?” Marinette asked as she sat down beside him.

“Not really,” he murmured. He lifted a corner of his blanket and she slipped beneath it even though she wasn’t really cold. She wanted to be close to him, to reassure herself that he was alright and that Le Sadique was in police custody again. His hand found hers and he clasped it firmly. She could feel his ring and abruptly thought of his broken finger. She wondered if he thought of it too.

“Nightmare?” she asked.

He nodded slowly.

“Me too.”

Silence stretched between them, each lost in their own thoughts as they took comfort in the other’s closeness. 

Marinette ran her thumb over his knuckles, over his ring. She lingered there, thinking of the pain he must have suffered while he waited for her to come. Her throat closed, dry and tight, even as her eyes stung. “I’m so sorry,” she choked out. “I should have been faster. I should have—”

“Don’t,” Chat Noir interrupted. His voice was sharper than she had expected. “Don’t say things like that.”

Marinette choked back the words that wanted to spill from her, including another apology for saying something that had upset him. She squeezed his hand tightly, her thumb stroking over his knuckles as she tried to even her breathing. 

Chat Noir shifted his hand, intertwining their fingers. He leaned into her, tucking his nose into her hair without a word. It seemed as though all he could smell was bleach and blood, but the scent of Ladybug’s hair soaked into him. Slowly, vanilla and strawberries filled his senses and he exhaled shakily. Ladybug didn’t protest or push him away. Her thumb continued its path across his knuckles, soothing and careful. 

“Did you know I was here?” he asked softly.

She shook her head, hair tickling the exposed parts of his face. “I just… I woke up from a nightmare and I had to get out. I thought you might have had one too.”

He nodded, nose brushing along the crown of her head. He breathed slowly, memorizing her scent. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for coming.”

She squeezed his hand without a word, unwilling to insist that she would come whenever he needed her and that she would never abandon him. He already knew that—he had to know that.

Leaned against each other, they remained for a long time. Marinette dozed, unable to fall completely to sleep but barely able to stay awake, against Chat Noir’s shoulder. He kept his cheek on the crown of her head, breath pluming against her hair. The silence broke abruptly when Chat Noir’s ring beeped in warning. She felt it shift on his finger like something alive, vibrating and pulsing as it weakened. He didn’t move from her side or react to the ring’s warning.

Marinette sat up slightly.

Chat Noir made a noise of protest. His eyes were so green in the moonlight. 

“Your ring,” she said. “Did you fall asleep?”

“I heard it,” he said softly. “I’m not ready to leave yet.”

Usually Marinette would have scolded him for toeing the dangerous line of their civilian and superhero lives, but she couldn’t now. 

“I have at least five more minutes,” he said and kept his eyes straight ahead. “Once I transform back, just don’t look. Please?” Though he tried to keep his emotions, the fear that she would deny him and leave him alone in the night, under control, the minute clench of his fingers around hers betrayed him. 

Ladybug leaned into him again without a word.

They didn’t need to speak. They were that close. Even though they knew virtually nothing about each other, they had a bond that transcended anything. They would leap into the proverbial lion’s mouth for each other and had demonstrated that on several occasions. Marinette could still feel his body fading away in her arms after he threw himself between her and Timebreaker, the feeling of his chest jerking when Dark Cupid’s arrow struck him. She could still see the panic in his face when the bus hurtled towards them before she pulled him against her and protected them both with her yoyo, the claustrophobic atmosphere of the bubble suffocating them yet she couldn’t let go of him anyway.

When a bright green light whirled out from his body, Marinette turned her face away. His palm became warmer and softer beneath the armor of her indestructible suit. Adrien’s fingers roamed the back of her hand, tracing the texture of her suit. He pressed against it, scraped his nails over it, and pinched a tiny bit between his fingers. Marinette winced when he caught her skin.

“It just feels like fabric,” he whispered.

“It’s not infallible,” came the voice of his kwami. “It’s reminiscent of Kevlar. Certain things can… break it.”

A strangled sound worked its way up Adrien’s throat. He felt it all over again, pain racing through his memories and embedding in the back of his mind. The hammer struck down on each bone with clinical precision, the way Le Sadique fractured his finger repeatedly, his shoulders dislocated as his own body worked against him. His grasp on Marinette’s hand tightened considerably, trembling. 

Marinette closed her eyes so she wouldn’t see his face and threw her other arm around him. Embracing him tightly, their fingers still intertwined, she stroked his hair. His free arm circled around her back, pulling her tight to his chest and burying his face into the crook of her neck. His shallow breaths rattled in his chest, puffing against her skin.

“Sorry,” his kwami said gently. Marinette felt his tiny light body rest on her shoulder as he cuddled into Chat Noir’s cheek. “Sorry.”

Marinette lost track of how long they sat like that, curled around each other. The blanket kept the cold night air off Chat Noir’s untransformed body and she tucked it a little more securely around his shoulders. Slowly, giving her time to close her eyes if she needed to, he loosened his grasp.

From the corner of her eye, Marinette saw the flash of his white skin as he reached into his shirt pocket and removed a small bag of cheese. 

“No camembert?” his kwami asked.

“Sorry, Plagg,” he murmured.

Plagg cuddled into his cheek again, purring softly.

Silence stretched between them again, comfortable and warm. Marinette stroked her thumb over his knuckles. Finally, her earrings beeped in warning.

“You don’t have to stay,” he whispered.

Marinette shook her head, cheek brushing his shoulder. She closed her eyes. “No,” she murmured. “I’ll stay. I want to stay.”

He didn’t thank her. He only promised, “I won’t look.”

Marinette released the transformation. She didn’t deny the little shiver that ran down her spine. She couldn’t believe she was sitting her beside Chat Noir in the wake of him being tortured by a serial killer turned akuma with both their transformations undone. It was more intimate and more terrifying than being naked.

Tikki floated into her lap.

“Tikki,” Plagg greeted.

“It’s been a while,” she answered.

“Shall we catch up?”

Tikki looked up at Marinette, her eyes the same color as the night. “Do you mind? Would you like me to stay?”

“I’m okay,” Marinette assured her kwami.

“What about you?” Plagg asked.

“You can go,” Adrien said softly.

The two kwamis moved away, tucking themselves somewhere out of hearing range. Marinette wondered what they would talk about.

“Do you need something for your kwami to eat?” Adrien asked Ladybug. “I have some cheese left.”

“That would be nice,” Marinette said. “I usually keep cookies in my bag, but I didn’t think to bring it with me.”

She wore some simple cotton pants and a tank top as pajamas and she was grateful for Chat Noir’s blanket and the warmth of his body against her side. Shivering, she tucked her bare feet up underneath her to keep them warm.

“Here,” Chat Noir whispered into her hair. He scooted backwards to rest his back against a beam of the Eiffel Tower, folded his legs, and tugged her gingerly. She shifted with him, puzzled as he guided her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her. His bare arms brushed hers and he intertwined their fingers again. Resting his chin on her shoulder, her dark hair whispering between them, he breathed out, “Okay?”

Marinette felt delightfully warm and nodded just in case her voice squeaked. If anyone had told her she would have spent the night cuddled in Chat Noir’s arms, she would have had them committed. If they had warned her about Le Sadique’s escape, she would have kissed them. Shaking herself, she pushed those thoughts away. Reclining against Chat Noir’s warm chest, his heartbeat thudding slowly against her back, she lost track of time again.

His chin tucked into Ladybug’s shoulder, Adrien allowed himself to breathe. She smelled of strawberries and vanilla, soaking away the stench that felt as though it had seeped into his soul. She was so warm and pliant in his arms, her fingers gently stroking over his knuckles. The feeling of her bare skin against his was heaven. For as long as he held her, his mind went blank. He wasn’t sure when he dozed off, face nestled against her neck.

“Alright, you two,” Tikki said gently. “Let’s get you both home.”

“You can’t stay out here all night,” Plagg told them.

Blearily, Marinette rubbed her eyes. She hadn’t even realized that she had fallen asleep.

Chat Noir made a similar sound behind her.

“Transform me,” they said in sleepy unison. 

The twin flares of light washed over them. The sensation of bare skin against skin vanished, replaced by the faint prick of Chat Noir’s claws and the ties restraining Ladybug’s hair. Slowly, they untangled from each other and stood up. Chat Noir folded his blanket over his arm. Marinette gazed at him, trying to decide if he looked any better, but she couldn’t tell.

“Until next time,” he said softly and turned to go.

“Wait!” she gasped abruptly.

He froze, green eyes wide. 

“Let me give you my phone number,” she said, “Just in case you ever need it.”

“My Lady,” he began and looked about to protest. 

“Memorize it,” Ladybug snapped. “Don’t put it in your contacts.” 

He nodded, shocked by the vehemence in her voice.

She told him her number slowly, repeating it when she finished. “Once you get home, text me and I’ll do the same with yours.”

Chat Nor nodded, the flash of his throat pale and vulnerable behind his bronze bell. 

“Goodnight,” she said and leaped away. 

…

Chat Noir landed beside Ladybug, the weight of his staff cool and comfortable in his hands. She glanced at him, the edge of her mouth curling into a pleased smile. Though her posture didn’t relax, her position shifted so that her back was secure in his sight and she could focus on the akuma. Her trust warmed him from the inside out and he breathed deeply. 

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“The Homer,” Ladybug said and tilted her chin. “He struck out on the final inning and his team lost. I’m ninety percent sure the akuma is in his bat.”

Adrien nodded.

“Watch out for those baseballs,” Ladybug continued. “They’re little burning meteors.”

“Can do, My Lady,” he assured her.

With that, he launched himself off the roof and straight at the new akuma. His staff extended and he met The Homer’s bat with a resounding boom. The force vibrated all the way up Adrien’s arms and into his shoulders. The Homer’s eyes gleaned behind the dark cage of his batter’s helmet. Ladybug twirled her yoyo, waiting for the opportune moment to rip the bat from The Homer’s hands. 

“I’ll strike you out!” The Homer shrieked. 

Chat Noir pushed down on his staff, pulled back, and whirled it in an attempt to knock the bat from The Homer’s hands. His heart pounded surprisingly hard.

The Homer shoved Adrien backwards a few steps and took advantage of the opportunity to leap away. Ladybug’s yoyo lashed the space where he had been standing only an instant behind. The Homer took a position reminiscent of standing over the home plate. From nowhere, he pulled out a baseball, threw it into the air, and hit it as hard as he could. 

The baseball streaked towards Chat Noir, flames licking its tail. Adrien leaped backwards further than necessary to avoid it, skin prickling. It whizzed past his head, a little searing whistle of deadly power that curled his hair. His breath came short. 

Ladybug landed beside him, her yoyo blocking several more baseballs. Adrien tried not to flinch as they bounced off her barrier and shattered into the buildings surrounding them. 

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Fine,” he assured her breathily. “Do you have a plan you’d like to share?”

Ladybug nodded, her blue eyes sparkling. 

Chat Noir stepped into her place, using his baton to protect them from the barrage of baseballs. She threw her yoyo into the air and cupped her hands for her Lucky Charm. When the catcher’s mitt landed in her hand, they both knew exactly what to do with it.

“Ready?” Ladybug asked.

“I was born ready,” he told her, grinning.

Ladybug jumped backwards, out of the safety of his spinning baton.

The Homer’s beady eyes focused on her immediately. He tossed another baseball into the air and hit it with lightning force. It streaked towards Ladybug and she cupped both hands behind the mitt. The baseball slammed into it, forcing her backwards with such force that her feet broke through the pavement. Searing, it spun in her red-and-black spotted mitt like a miniature sun. She grabbed it despite its heat and threw it towards Chat Noir. He lowered his staff and hit it as hard as he could. It streaked back towards The Homer.

Frozen in shock, The Homer didn’t move. The burning baseball slammed into his stomach and threw him down with a yell of pain. 

Ladybug lunged towards him, beaming.

Chat Noir retracted his staff. 

“No!” The Homer wailed. “I won’t be struck out! Not again!” He grabbed the baseball from where it was buried in the padding over his chest and threw it. Still imbued with power, it flew just as quickly as it had when The Homer had hit it. 

It streaked towards Chat Noir.

“Watch out!” Ladybug shouted even as she tore the bat from The Homer’s hand and broke it over her knee. 

Adrien turned too slowly. 

The baseball found its mark on his chest, just beneath his collarbone, with a crack. Though his suit protected him, pain still reached him. The baseball was significantly weaker than Le Sadique’s purposeful hammer, after all, but he felt the heat of the baseball through his suit and the blow was like being punched. 

All at once, he was back in that basement again, smelling the bleach and the blood. He saw the shining jagged teeth of Le Sadique’s hammer in the instant before it shattered his collarbone, his elbow, his wrist, his forearm, his ring finger. That grinning face filled Adrien’s mind and choked out everything else. It consumed him, swallowing him into the dark swirl of memories.

Ladybug purified the black butterfly and threw her Lucky Charm into the air. Though the light washed over him, it did nothing to cure the turmoil raging inside his head. 

Chat Noir crumbled to his knees, clutching his head between both gloves palms. The tips of his claws dug into his scalp. His mind rippled, rending apart at the seams. It felt as though his very blood had been replaced with agony. Le Sadique’s face loomed in front of him, grinning, as the knife carved the edge of his mask from his flesh. He could taste it, smell it, feel it.

“Chat! Chat!” Ladybug’s voice came from a long way off.

Adrien was submerged in the memories of torture, drowning, suffocating. The muscles in his thighs convulsed, remembering the feeling of his femurs being shattered even though no trace of the injury remained. He felt Le Sadique’s warm rough hands twisting his finger, cracking it at each knuckle with clinical precision. His collarbone reared with fresh pain, the rounded head of the hammer shattering it.

“Take it,” he rasped out. “Just take it.”

“Chat!”

Marinette didn’t know what to do. She had seen the baseball strike Chat Noir, watched him crumble like a house of cards, and waited for him to get up. He didn’t though. He collapsed in a heap, whimpering and crying out, pleading with an invisible assailant. She clutched him to her chest, trying to shelter him from whatever he saw, but the akuma had been purified. She didn’t know how to help him.

In her arms, he yelped and twitched violently. His feet and clawed hands scrabbled at the pavement. She tried to hold him still, but that only seemed to make things worse. He struggled harder, pressing against her in an attempt to escape. She let him go, but held his hand so he wouldn’t run away. She wouldn’t let him be alone as he went through this waking nightmare. 

“Chat!”

“Take it! Let me go!” Chat fumbled at his Miraculous Ring, trying to pull it off. He flinched when he touched his finger, the one that Le Sadique had broken. 

It was then that Marinette realized what was happening. 

She took his hand quickly and pressed it to her chest, just between the valley of her breasts. People were beginning to filter onto the street in the wake of the attack, but she didn’t let herself mind them. Chat Noir flinched again, his claws scraping her suit as he tried to pull away.

“Chat,” she said as gently as she could. “Listen to me.”

He stilled slightly. She could feel the pulse in his wrist racing, feel his fingers twitching, but he didn’t pull away. His green eyes gazed into her face without appearing to recognize her. He could still see Le Sadique’s basement, feel his body breaking, smell the bleach. 

“Can you feel my breath?” Marinette whispered. “Breathe with me.”

His chest rose and fell.

Gently, she cradled his cheek in her palm. 

He flinched as her fingers touched the edge of his mask. She thought of the deep horrific slashes that had cut to the bone on his face. Tenderly, she stroked her thumb against his cheek and kept the motion steady so he could adjust to it. Slowly, his eyes found hers.

“Ladybug,” he whispered.

“Breathe with me, Chat Noir,” she said. “You are safe here. I’m with you.”

He breathed slowly, shoulders rising and trembling as they lowered. 

“Can you feel my breath?” she asked.

He nodded slowly.

“Do you know where you are?”

He looked around, taking in the sight of the nearby park where The Homer had been playing before he had been akumatized. “Yes,” he said. “I remember. What happened?”

“I think… you had a panic attack,” she said gently.

He didn’t deny or confirm her worries. He didn’t look surprised either.

“You’ve had one before?” she asked.

He nodded, just a tiny timid dip of his head.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t want to bother you, My Lady.”

Marinette tugged him gently. He scooted forward until they were nearly nose-to-nose. She pulled him into her, tucking his face against her neck and hugging him tightly. She rubbed his back with one hand, tangled her free hand into his hair, and merely held him. He tensed for a moment before melting into her. His arms circled her small body and clutched her, breathing raggedly. 

“We’re partners,” she whispered. “I’m here for you, no matter what and no matter when. You could never bother me. I’m here for you.”

“Thank you,” Adrien whispered. “Thank you.”

Her earrings beeped quietly. “I need to go.”

Chat Noir nodded, untangled himself from her, and helped her to her feet. She threw her yoyo onto a nearby roof and he vaulted after her. She hugged him again, quickly but firmly, before disappearing to transform back into her civilian self. Adrien took a few deep cleansing breaths before he did the same. 

…

Adrien stared at the text message for twenty minutes before he finally pressed send. It was short and simple, but he had a feeling Ladybug would know what he was talking about. ‘Will you come with me?’ was all he wrote. He paced, unable to sit still enough to watch television as he waited for her response.

Within ten minutes, she answered, ‘Of course.’

‘Meet at the outskirts of Paris at seven?’ he texted back.

‘Sounds good. I’ll see you there.’

That was it. Four easy text messages and he had arranged to go there. He waited for seven o’clock, his heart knocking painfully against his ribs. He already felt lightheaded, the smell of bleach and blood filling his nose. If he imagined that hammer, imagined it fracturing every bone in his body—

Plagg nuzzled into his cheek, pulling him out of his thoughts, and said, “It’s time. I’m sure Ladybug would understand if you changed your mind.”

“No,” he said. “I have to do this.”

They transformed easily, the familiarity doing something to soothe Adrien’s frayed nerves. He was grateful never to feel any anxiety from his transformation itself, even if the smell of bleach or a crack of pain could immediately send him into a downward spiral. He eased out his bedroom window and closed it quietly behind himself, hoping that Nathalie wouldn’t decide to check on him while he was gone. He would never be able to explain his emotions to her. 

Paris flew by him in a blur, the reflective windows bouncing his fleeting image back at him. He could smell fresh crepes from a nearby stand, but didn’t stop for a snack. Ladybug was already waiting for him and he was ten minutes early. He stopped beside her, close enough to touch. Ladybug reached for him and he folded into her touch, dipping down to embrace her.

“How are you doing?” she asked him.

“Better,” he murmured and then said quickly, as though she would try to talk him out of it, “I need to do this.”

She nodded. “I understand. Let’s go.”

Together, they leaped onto the telephone lines and bounded from pole to pole. Adrien let Ladybug lead, keeping his eyes focused on the strong line of her spine. The night was cool and deep around them. The further they got from Paris, the brighter the moonlight got. He could see almost every star. It was so beautiful. 

Before he knew it, they were in front of Le Sadique’s house. It was as simple and unassuming as ever. Crime scene tape had been put up after Le Sadique’s escape from prison and Ladybug calling in his location after they had captured him, but it had been taken down. Adrien could imagine some poor realtor trying to sell this house to a simple suburban family. 

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Do you want to go inside?” Ladybug asked.

He nodded.

She held out her hand, wordlessly and without looking at him.

“Thanks,” he murmured and took her hand gratefully. 

The broken window in the front door had been covered with cardboard from the inside, but it was an easy matter for Ladybug to push it off and open the door. The broken glass had been swept up. The house was dark, still, and empty—like a tomb.

Marinette moved to step inside, but Chat Noir stopped her. His grip on her hand was tight but not painful. However, he froze, staring into the house with wide green eyes. She squeezed his fingers, stroking her thumb over his knuckle to draw his attention.

“We can wait,” she offered.

“I’m alright,” he assured her.

He stepped in beside her. 

Shoulder to shoulder, they stood in the threshold of Le Sadique’s house. Marinette could remember breaking the window, running across the glass. She had slammed through the house in desperate search for her partner. She knew the path to the basement by heart. She saw it in her nightmares.

Adrien, however, had never seen the house. When Le Sadique took him, they went directly through the basement doors from the outside. Adrien was immediately shackled and the hammer began breaking his body. Somehow, seeing the house in all its simplicity made his heart beat even harder. 

“Chat?” Ladybug whispered. “You stopped breathing. Talk to me.”

He took a shuddering breath. “I was just thinking… Le Sadique lived here. He… he was a person. He went grocery shopping and rented movies and drove a car,” he whispered. “How many people like him do you think we pass on the street every day?”

Ladybug squeezed his hand comfortingly. “You can’t think like that,” she told him. “Be cautious, but don’t be afraid.”

He nodded shakily. “Let’s keep going.”

Ladybug led him forward, flicking on the lights in each room they passed. When they reached Le Sadique’s den with all his articles and cutouts of horror, Marinette hesitated. She didn’t know if Chat Noir needed to see that, not when she could already feel his hand trembling. 

“What is it?” Chat Noir asked.

“His… trophy room,” Marinette murmured. “It’s full of all the articles and pictures about his crimes. Do you… want to see it?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think I need to,” he said and an aggrieved smile pulled the edge of his mouth. “I lived through his crime.”

Those words hung between them like a spider in a web, its eyes glinting. 

Marinette’s breath shuddered from her.

Chat Noir stepped closer, the heat rolling off his body in waves. “Talk to me, too,” he whispered.

“I feel guilty,” she confessed quietly. She couldn’t draw her eyes from the floor to look at him as she spoke what lurked in all her nightmares. “I didn’t get to you quick enough. I know it’s not true but… I feel like I let him hurt you.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said softly. “It wasn’t either of our faults. It was only Le Sadique’s.”

“I know that,” Marinette whispered, “I know that, but it’s so hard to shake. In my nightmares, I always stand and watch. I want to save you, god, I want to stop him, but it’s like I’m cased in concrete. I can’t move. I just watch.”

“You saved me,” he assured her. “I knew you would.”

Ladybug nodded.

Stepping apart slightly, she led him forward to the basement door. Her light had mended the door, but it was unlocked. She pushed it open and flipped on the light. Together, they stood at the top of the stairs and looked down into the basement. Already, Adrien could smell bleach. He began to stumble backwards, but Ladybug anchored him.

“Chat, talk to me.”

“The smell,” he confessed. “The smell is the worst.”

Ladybug breathed in through her nose. She always smelled hot metal and gunpowder. She had never realized the smell of bleach was so strong. “Chemicals,” she agreed. 

“And blood,” he continued. “I always smell my own blood.”

Their fingers were interlaced and Ladybug ran her thumb over his knuckles.

“When he cut my face…” Adrien closed his eyes. He used his grasp on Ladybug’s hand to anchor himself even as the memories came. The knife was like ice, digging under his skin and into his bones. There were no words to describe the feeling of the knife scraping his skull. He breathed out, trembling. “I’m okay,” he murmured. “Let’s go down.”

“You’re sure?”

He nodded.

Slowly, holding on to each other so they wouldn’t have to touch the railing or the walls, they crept down the stairwell. The basement spread before them, empty. The walls were clean and bare of blood, washed by Ladybug’s light. The hose remained in the corner, the drain lurked in the middle of the floor like a large spider, and shackles hung from the ceiling. It was just as Ladybug saw in her nightmares, except she always saw Chat Noir strung up like an animal for butchering with every bone in his body broken and his face bloody.

Adrien leaned into her, letting out a slow breath. He closed his eyes and then opened them slowly. His gaze tracked over the walls, the floor, the drain, the shackles. Without Le Sadique, it was just a terrifying basement where many people had died—where he had almost died. It didn’t possess any special powers. It had no sway over him. It was just a room.

“Chat?”

He turned to face her. Without prompting, he explained, “It’s just a creepy basement.”

She nodded.

“Le Sadique is a fucked up bastard, but we put him away. If Hawk Moth touches him again—” his voice cracked, but he pushed forward “—we will stop him. We’ll stop both of them.”

Ladybug stroked his knuckles. 

Adrien smiled thinly. “Thank you,” he said, “for coming with me.”

“I won’t let you go it alone,” Ladybug assured him. “I will never let you be alone.”

Wordlessly, Adrien ducked down to embrace her again. Though her body was small and thin in his arms, he felt her strength. It fed into his own, wiping the cobwebs from his mind and heart. He could still feel the spider there, spinning and spinning, but it was a small beast inside his head. He knew, with time, he could shine a light on that spider and it would continue to shrink.

“It’s just a room,” Adrien whispered into Ladybug’s hair. 

“You’re not alone,” Marinette told him. Her lips moved against his throat. 

Gently, they broke apart and Adrien held her by her elbows, unwilling to let her go. Gently, he cupped her chin and lifted her head. He rubbed his cheek against hers, purring softly in his chest despite himself. He had never thanked her, but he didn’t need to. He whispered, “My Lady, My Hero.”

She laughed, the sound watery behind her unshed tears. She didn’t know how he did it, how he managed to still be so gentle and kind after everything that had happened to him. “My Kitty,” she said in return. “My Hero.”

He smiled and nuzzled into her, his eyes closed. His mouth brushed the edge of hers, but neither of them reacted. This was about being close, about being together, and nothing else. Marinette coiled her arms around Chat Noir’s thin frame and Adrien ran his hands down her back to pull her closer. They burrowed against each other. No matter the monsters they faced, they had each other. Ladybug’s magic would heal all wounds, but they had each other to soothe the scars that remained.

X X X

“Healing comes when we choose to walk away from the darkness and shift towards a brighter light.” –Dieter Uchtdorf

Questions, comments, concerns?


End file.
